rust and white noise

Did'ja miss me?

We had intermittent power for 3 days, hence, I haven't showered for 3 days.

The pool is a slimy mess, but that was my makeshift bath yesterday.

I'm pretty sure me going in there and bathing is the majority of the dirt they're vacuuming out of the pool right now.

Plumber Friend is teaching Dominican Daddy how to clean the pool again.  He needed a refresher course.

Papi resisted having anyone else clean it, because he's as O.C.D. about his pool as I am about my dishes.

I would rather have my dishes pile to the ceiling, waiting for me to wash them, than have Housemaid clean them.

I can do without the chunks of food left on the plates when she 'cleans' them.  I'm pretty sure it's because Housemaid needs glasses.  That's just not something people can normally afford here.

But as for the pool, Papi has given in and allowed Dominican Daddy to have the lessons and be the cleaner.  Besides, Papi is honestly dying from heat.  He could barely move when we had the heat wave last month.

Not to mention, Dominican Daddy will need to know how to clean it when we move, because the next people won't know how to deal with it.

If they're anything like us, this will be their first home and they'll have this dream about living on the ocean, just like we did.

We don't ever want to live on the ocean again.

When we move, I'll have to buy all new instruments and computers.

Even my clothes are disintegrating from the air here.

Seriously!  My sarongs are falling to pieces.

When we first heard the ocean non-stop, it was pleasing.

However, there comes a point when you'd like to just have a word with mother nature and say, "Would you mind turning off the white noise?  It's kinda making me crazy.  Thanks."

It was so beautiful when I first heard it.

I remember opening my door that first day.  I thought the sound was wind pounding against the house in a 'welcome to the DR' storm, but it was just the waves I was hearing.

I enjoyed every morning doing yoga to the sound of the waves crashing.  Papi enjoyed lying in the pool at night listening to the ebb and flow of the ocean.

Here we are, 10 months later, and that sound has become similar to living on a busy street in the city.

You know how you hear continuous cars, honking, sirens, people talking really loud, and all you want is just to have quiet time?

Oh, you get quiet time in the middle of the night.  There is a silence from the drone of the city for a brief moment if you're up that late, or early depending on how you look at it.

But waves?  They never stop.  Ever.  White noise.

They've become white noise!

So, our stint on the ocean has become our temporary home.

In about 5 years, we'll probably move up into the mountains, where the rust won't find us on its daily regimen.

Not to mention, this house is old.

Living without electricity, leaving us with no shower for days on end is really frustrating this femme who is used to being pristine and fancy.

Now I'm stinky and dirty with holes in my clothes.

I lost it the 2nd night of no power and took my anger out on Papi.

There just comes a point where you want the niceties of a developed country.

I just wish the cold of Canada didn't hurt so much.  We would have never left if I could handle it.

Yesterday, when Plumber Friend got our power back on, I took the opportunity to play my piano for an hour without any back pain.  That's the whole reason for being here.  The ability to really live.

For Papi, it's the ability to really relax after so much hard work in his life.

It's fitting that the day we lost our power was our 1 year anniversary of buying this house, and beginning the journey of moving to this beautiful country full of lovely people.

I love it here.  I don't ever want to move back to the chill of Canada.

This is home.

Rust and white noise included.

i am led by my dreams

Dirt under feet.

If you had have asked me 5 years ago what I would want to be doing right now, I honestly never would have banked on the fact that I'd be walking around barefoot as part of that plan.

Certainly, Vancouver is not a city where you want to walk barefoot.  It's even dangerous on the beach.

Remember when you were little?

It almost seemed you could walk on glass!

You did everything barefoot and all those little rocks that jabbed into the arch of your foot never even phased you!  You just kept running.

It felt cool on your feet and the feeling of the earth beneath you gave you energy.

The feeling of mud between your toes was extravagant as you watched it fill the crevices between your digits, then up over the knuckle, then finally your toenails would disappear.

It's so much easier to walk barefoot here, because the sand just gets in your flip-flops anyway.

Then it grates along your skin.

At least when you're on the true ground, it feels soft and doesn't feel like sandpaper waring away the years of callouses on the soles of your feet.

There are no intravenous drug users in my village, I don't have to worry about needles, or broken glass from drunks who like to smash their bottles in a fit of alcoholism.

However, I do have to worry about the neighbourhood drunk.  At least there's only one:  Mr. Gummy.  He touches me again like he did yesterday, he's not going to have a friend anymore.  And, no, Mr. Gummy.  I'm not giving you money for more beer.  Go sleep it off.

Other than Mr. Gummy, the most I have to worry about when I walk shoeless are land mines from the dogs.

Those bonus dumps from The Donkey wouldn't feel too sexy between my toes.

This morning, as I tried to chase down the lettuce man to no avail, I realized that I walk barefoot more than I walk in shoes.

My feet are adjusting.

They seem stronger.

They seem as though they hold me more stable.

I still wobble about, but I can correct myself much faster.

Dirt under feet.

It feels so good.

Who knew I was missing this in my life?

I never knew what I was missing.

Today, Papi and I are supposed to go play in the the water at Sosúa Beach.  It's our day.

We were going to try for yesterday, but the water wasn't working again, and we had to wait for my Plumber Friend to come fix it.

Apparently, we're supposed to 'jiggle this little thing right here'.

Yeah.

We missed out on our beach day to find out we had to jiggle something.

We have to go today, because it did so much for us last week.

This is the month they say that the water calms down at our house.

When it calms down, we won't have to go too far to float and be grateful for the beauty.

Those waves today?

They do NOT look like they're calming.

I'm listening to them right now.

It almost sounds like a storm outside, but it's just waves crashing.

Last night, I heard my first thunder here!

I love thunder.  It's so beautiful to me, and May is supposed to be storm month.  I just might get a lot of thunder love in this month.

All of this beauty of nature is the first thing I need to put on my list of new things that make me happy.

The New Life List.

Much different than that of Vancouver.

New life.

New ways to find happiness.

Dirt under feet.

i attempt all possible ways to get unstuck

and they judge me for having a wall ...

I just saw a man in his underwear!

And it wasn't Papi.

It was my Plumber Friend, and no he didn't have butt crack.

He's in our pool, putting in a piece that has fallen out.

Here, in the Dominican Republic, men don't always use a bathing suit.

Definitely, the majority of the children don't.  Mostly because they don't have enough money for one.

Men and children just strip down to their boxers or tighty whities and jump on in.

The first time we invited Our Unadopted Child into the pool, we were a little taken aback that he just pulled down his pants and in he went.

We understood pretty quickly, that it's because this family doesn't have money for a swim suit.  They're used to it.

Most toddlers don't have diapers, they just run around in their little undies until they have an accident, mom pulls off the offending ginch, dips the child into the communal bathtub and puts on a new pair of drawers that had been drying from the last piddling episode.

A lot of toddlers just run around naked.

Gotta pee?  No problem.  Do what all the other males do.

Side of the road, in plain view.  No, don't try to hide your 'man zone' or anything.

This Canadian Queen will get used to it.

Prince Papi just laughs as I cringe and wanna click my heels to get back to Vancouver, for just that moment.

Maybe I need a teleporter.  That would be faster, and I could just come back when they're done.

In Canada, they'd be fined.

Here, the police don't care.  They probably do it too, when they're not in uniform extorting people.

Anyway, I'm not used to it.  At all.

It's fine with the wee ones.  They're not going to trigger my P.T.S.D.

Especially the cutest one I ever saw, running around with nothing on but gumboots, that were definitely a size for an adult.

Sometimes, I wish I could have my video camera perched 24-7 to have caught that one.

However, it's not a good idea here.

It will get nabbed and there will be no more YouTube show.

Papi has decided that we need to get more dangerous with our videos and go into places that are potentially a threat to our well being.

He says we need to up the ante on our movies.

OK.  Fine.

You wanna do that, YOU are the one holding the camera.  They might not think of stealing it from you because in this country, tattoos mean you've been in jail.

Imagine their first thoughts of me?  A female criminal?

It's not the same as in Canada, where there are many women desperate enough to be corrupt and wind up in jail.

Here, the men do the big stuff, with guns and masks, and the women do it covertly, like stealing your toothpaste one squirt at a time.

Yesterday, the women in my village made sure I knew that the night before, there was a gringo bound and gagged at gunpoint, while the thieves stole everything from her house.

She lives just a few doors down from us.

She doesn't have a gun.

She doesn't have a wall.

She doesn't have cameras, or dogs and she was all alone.

They got her and there are no police here to come and help her.  They'd probably send Mr. Extortion to tell her to give them money just to rub salt in the wound.

I know that everyone in Vancouver's 'community' who judged me, then abandoned me for putting up a wall probably don't read this blog anymore, because I'm now labeled a horrible person.

But you know what?

It wasn't me that got attacked.

So fuck all of you, who think that just because you read a book or went on a holiday to a developing country, you know how it works here.

I'll be holding my gun a little closer.

i stand firmly in my belief in myself

Gratitude List, Last day.  Have you been keeping up with yours?
1. I am grateful we have security in place to deter the thieves.
2. I am grateful for the rain to feed the plants in the yard.
3. I am grateful to have electricity for 2 days in a row!
4. I am grateful for the warmth to heal my back.
5. I am grateful for the good people here who restore my trust.
6. I am grateful to have eaten well for 2 days.
7. I am grateful to be feeling stronger.
8. I am grateful for the love of puppies.
9. I am grateful for the love of friends.
10. I am grateful for this list and that I doubled it up for a bit.  It really helped.

change.

There's a chorus of dogs out there.

Dogs on the beach.  Dogs in my yard.  Dogs in the hood.  All of them barking at the same time.

To me, it's a beautiful sound.  Perhaps to others, it's not quite how they would choose to have their sound space invaded.

The Donkey is swimming in the pool, so the iron gate is firmly affixed, keeping her from bounding in and flailing her body around the kitchen spreading water everywhere.

Problem is, Pathetic Puppy is getting too big to fit through the spaces, but when that iron gate is closed, she keeps trying.

I envision the day she will be stuck in the gate and we'll be left trying to figure out how to get her out of the mess.

However, she is the most horrible puppy on the planet and will inevitably try again.

Oh, what trouble she is, as are the workers.

I am grateful that Dominican Daddy is here to tend to the garden, as they've started on the last phase of the renos.

We need a proper carport to protect the vehicle from the ocean air, eroding the car faster than our window hinges, and we need the casita to give us a space for something, anything.  Right now it's useless, as it only holds animal cages, drying used ziplock bags and suitcases.

Anyway, both of these spaces are where all my fruit trees are.

I'm so terrified that the workers will destroy everything.

The construction workers here are very much like those at home, and, I'm assuming, like those around the world.

Why are construction workers so damn destructive?  They come in like a tsunami, and anything in their path is wiped out.

They don't care about the plants, as they toss their tools, unnecessary wood, concrete and nails into them, not to mention, just trod upon then when they need.

Why?  What is this phenomenon of construction workers?

They're so good at building, but do they need the balance of destruction to keep them feeling symmetry?

If you're reading this and you're a construction worker, maybe you could enlighten me.

Maybe I'll ask my baby sister's husband as well.

Anyway, Dominican Daddy is trying to move 6 trees fast enough for these folks not to destroy them.

My most prized possession?  My mango tree.

I see new buds!!!!!  I just got her happy and healthy and she's going to have to move again.  Poor soul.

I hope this doesn't destroy my option for mangos in the fall.  After a 2nd move like this, I may have to wait until next season.

But you know what?  Trees are not the only ones who don't like change; neither do we humans.

After crying on my Plumber Friend's shoulder yesterday, I had enough Spanish to adequately talk out my issues, even if it was part speaking, part thinking.

Later, talking it out with my Eternal Friend on our quick computer texts, she was able to allow me to talk it out to pinpoint how I need to conquer these drastic ups and downs of emotions of this grand move and gargantuan changes.

When I was in Vancouver, I knew how to make myself happy; go for coffee with a friend, hop on over to the gym, grab some really healthy comfort food, find someone spiritual to lead me, or make some music.

The list goes on, but I don't have all those options here.  I'm very limited.  So I need to change what makes me happy.  I have to find new ways to enjoy my life.

There is good out there, we just have to have enough time to find it, then enjoy it.

We found the first thing; a once a week trip to Sosúa Beach.

We're depressed until we leave the house.

Once we're out of the house, we stop fighting, we start smiling and our negativity seems lighter.

I truly hope that one day it will be the other way around.

Maybe, one day, coming home will bring us happiness and we won't want to run.

Speaking of running, workers are calling.

And off I go.

hardship helps me grow into a stronger person

Gratitude List, Day 9/10
1. I am grateful for electricity so I can have internet to talk to friends.
2. I am grateful for water, so I can be clean and healthy.
3. I am grateful for the puppies to make me laugh.
4. I am grateful for patience for the puppies.
5. I am grateful for the good people here who listen to my problems, when they already have their own.
6. I am grateful for the support of friends who have done what I'm doing.
7. I am grateful for my beautiful home.
8. I am grateful for fruit trees to distract me with their beauty.
9. I am grateful for this gratitude list to help me through the bumps.
10. I am grateful for my stubborn persistence to make myself happy.